magine standing at home plate, a bat poised in your hands. Half the crowd holds their breath waiting for the
wind-up, the other half yells at the pitcher. The pitcher leans ‘way back. The whole world turns. The pitcher lets the ball soar towards home and your bat. In an instant before wood meets ball, you hitch the bat
back before you swing. In that instant of preparation – hitching back the bat -- baseball intersects with music and with theatre.
The previous article mentioned that an important element in each of Meyerhold’s productions was rhythm. Meyerhold trained his actors in rhythm. The biomechanical etudes of Meyerhold’s training regimen were executed to musical accompaniment to help the actors find the appropriate means and ‘tone’ of performance. Meyerhold’s productions had elaborate sound/music designs in which scenes would move from one piece of music to another – underscoring action, contrasting with the action, providing an almost cinematic background for the actors.
Meyerhold played the violin very well. He studied music as a young man and considered becoming a professional at one point. Many of Meyerhold’s ideas about rhythm in theatre grew out of his experience with music. Indeed, during rehearsals for Gogol’s Revisor (“Inspector General”) Meyerhold referred to his style of production as “musical realism.” Also, Meyerhold regularly used the word that is variably translated as ‘reject’ or ‘refuse.’ In this usage of the word, ‘reject’ indicates an “anti”- motion or movement in the opposite direction – like hitching back on the bat before swinging at the ball.
The word ‘anacrusis’ describes this rhythmic concept in music. An anacrusis rhythmically leads to a down beat. For example, an anacrusis begins “The Star Spangled Banner.” (“Oh, say can you see . . . .”) The “Oh” leads to a down beat on “say.” Or, the opening of “Yellow Submarine” provides another example. (“In the town where I was born. . . .”) “In the” rhythmically prepares for a down beat on “town.” Another famous tune that includes many examples of how an anacrusis prepares for a down beat is the song “Danny Boy” or “Londonderry Aire.” Removal of each anacrusis from “Danny Boy” makes the song nearly impossible to sing!
This concept of rhythmic preparation for an accented moment in a piece of theatre can have numerous consequences in terms of language emphasis, in terms of character choice in moving from objective to objective, and in terms of how episodes and scenes progress from one to the next.
More obvious examples of how this works can be seen in comedy where we’re trained to look for the idea of a “set-up” and a “punch.” In Barefoot in the Park Corrie (explaining why she likes the flights of stairs on the building) says, “Mothers, friends, relatives, mothers.” The first ‘mothers’ serves as a linguistic anacrusis to the second. Another example in looking at how anacrusis works in making character choices from objective to objective can also be shown in that same opening scene from Barefoot in the Park. The Telephone Repair Man’s first objective is to get into the apartment, but that is anacrusic to his objective of hooking up the phone.
One teacher I know has said that the concept of anacrusis has continually worked to his benefit in his work. If an actor asks him why scene x isn’t working appropriately, this teacher will advise the actor to look at what’s happening in the pages prior to scene x. Inevitably, this teacher reports, the actor’s preparation in those preceding pages will “miraculously” solve the problem of scene x.
Of course, an anacrusis prepares for a crusis – the down beat, or the moment when the bat meets the ball. Close readers will realize that not all tunes have an anacrusis before a crusis. The Christmas song “Joy to the World,” for example, begins with a crusis on “joy.” But the energy is different between hitting a down beat after an anacrusis than when it stands alone. Listen to all of the variations of where “Hallelujah” starts in terms of accents in Handel’s “Hallelujah” Chorus. Handel cleverly utilizes this shifting of energies to his benefit.
The follow-through of the bat or the remaining part of the tune in music or the follow-through for the actor is the “metacrusis.” The combination of these concepts can help an actor, as well as a musician find the rhythmic shape to a line, a speech, a moment, or an episode or scene. These simple ideas, of course, do not exhaust the possibilities of rhythmic work in theatre. Nevertheless, these concepts do provide a basic starting place for working with rhythm in theatre in a practical manner.
The discovery of appropriate rhythms and tempi (tempo being the physical execution of a rhythm at some rate or speed – whatever gradation of slowness or quickness there may be) can provide actors and directors another means of expressing character and giving physical manifestations of behavior outside the realm of personalized psychology. Rhythm, by its nature, suggests patterning of some sort or kind. The “drive” of an “inner” rhythm of a character can provide an “inner” impetus for public manifestations of physicalization in movement and speech. This attention to rhythm, then, can be the start of working with characters outside the realm of the everyday life (playing an Angel, playing the Bank Teller, playing the Stout Man) with an “inner” life without relying on personalized psychology. Likewise, its public execution can be manifested without resort to cliché.
I began this set of articles with a quote from “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” “You have to go forward to get back. Better press on.” Stalin and history led the theatre to focus on Stanislavsky’s gargantuan contribution to performance. But now we have the opportunity to look at other artists, like Meyerhold, the theatre might be able to find new perspectives in looking at the continuing problems of making theatrical art. We daily have to answer the question -- how do we today find a way to make a piece of theatre that is exciting and alive to us and connects with our audience tonight? Looking back in different ways may show us other paths toward the future.
© 2001 Nathan Thomas
Nathan Thomas has earned his
living as a touring actor, Artistic Director, director
stage manager, designer, composer, and pianist
He has a Ph.D. in Theatre and is a member of
the theatre faculty of Centenary College
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